Indian chieftain. [volume] (Vinita, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1882-1902, 1887-04-07

tho culrrit to his knees crying for
mercy they affected for long time a
most whitening contempt Happily.
owever, he was entirely unconscious
of It,
At the depot letter was handed him
by the old lawyers attendant with the
request that he would not open IL until
he had left Openstone. After the first
station had been passed he took IL from
his pocket IL contained a check for
five hundred dollars The young
mans face colored. and he looked at It
half tearfully for time, then he laid it
revercntly away in his note book. say
ing to himself that he would return 1t
to the givcr when he came back.
The train rolled onward through a
white. undulatng country, and at eight
o'clock came into Chicago. An omni-
bus carried him and other passengers
across that young Babylon, whose
streets. though the winds were glancing
icily from the chill bosom Of Lake
Michigan, were ablaze with light and
flowing with theater-going people. On
the lake front he presently took a train
for the East, hearing the slosh. slosh,
of the inilowing ridges Of cold water as
the train rolled away into the darkness.
Sitting there with arms folded and
chin against his chest, the midnight
hour found his thoughts, lulled by the
rumble and beat of the wheels. turning
dreamily among the receding days and
deeds and forms and faces that had filed
his life. There softly across the smooth
sward, among imyriad ilickcring, leaf.
sifted lights, went the velvet-footed
Maun. She did not look back, but
| glanced and waverpd and glimmered on
and on and on through thousand
| slender, sun-naked tree-trunks, and
faded out at last against long. low
| slit of blue sea-water. Then somehow
he felt himself yearning not so much
| for her lost form, as for the beautcous
motion that faded with It. Suddenly
\ IL seemed so silent that he thought
| he could hear the blood running
| through all his veins and the incom-
municable sound of thoughts forming
and touching together in his brain, and
he awoke TO find the train stopping at
station, and to see the passengers
nodding. yawning, leaning and lying
in the dim light about him. All seemed
mournful. ghostly, deserted, drcar,
intrusive.
SO the night, broken for him and
full Of dreams, jostled. and rumbled
and Jared on into the dawn. and that
evening the train rolled into Earring
ford. Very strange did John Earling
feel as he walked down the man street
of this old town on the banks of the
Ohio. u had been named for his fa-
ther, he knew. and a thousand times that
father, to him unknown, had gone
along the self-same street. and doubt
less his eyes had fallen upon many
Of the self-same tore fronts, and lis
footsteps upon many Of the same worn
stones. lie himself had been borne
away from II when a child. going down
the broad river on a boat, as he had
heard Joel Whitney tell. and thence
by rail into the West; and now he had
come again after twenty years had
gone, and, knowing no one and him
self utterly unknown, was walking
with kind of eXpectant, wondering
step along the twilight street Of the
town that bore his name. Many of the
passers looked curiously at the tall.
pale youth, bu. among all their faces
there passed not one that he had ever
seen.
A light snow lay upon the ground
and the air was motionless and chill.
He turned into one of the two rather
diugy houses that divided the hotel
hOnOrs Of the place, and no one being
in the little yellow office, he wrote his
name in the much bespattered register
and waited. He could not but feel it
sftsar hat t.lu fN.gi ifeta af.fs
known and connected with his ante
| cedents should be so unfamiliar to him.
He went to the open door and looked
ont The vim and stir and freshness
of OpenstOne was not there. The long.
weather-beaten street had some loiter-
ing pedestrians in it and a team hitchcd
here and there, and upon the porch of
the other hotel the lean landlord stood
looking with sour dolefulness toward
him. The town seemed very dull,
though doubtless il had its lively days,
for the region was well-to-do and busy
enough, and the farms were old and
valuable. In a moment John Earrings
hostess, a fat lady who leaned back
and shook a good deal about the bust
and gastric region when she stepped.
came bustling in behind the counter.
lie went forward as she courtesied and
wiped her fat hands upon her apron.
and asked il he might obtain lodging
for the night
Certainly" said the fat lady, with
a very agreeable smilei ''jist step In
this way with your baggage and take
the parlor bedroom. 1ty son should
a been out to the depot and brought up
your things but he's out 20 the farGn
gettin' in COW, and he didn't ret
back until jlst now. Set your things
right down there; I'll send my daugh-
ter in with some fresh water for your
pitcher. Now, what might your name
be?m
John Earling. ma'am."
The fat woman's mouth and eyes
perceptibly widened. "Lawkw She
gasped, "bo you any kin 10 John Earling
who was murdered down on the south
road twenty year ago?'
Il have been told that It was my
father who lost his life there"
"Ldwk!' with a great gasp Of won
der, 'you ain'tbaby Earling. be you?"
Il presume | was once, ma am"
with a smile.
The fat lady had her arms fall OF
clothes which she had gathered OF from
the bed and was pausing in the door;
''L-a-w-k! in long, gasping viii per,
and staring oyer the clothes at him,
"hOi0 YOU heU growed!"
John Earling smiled. and after star
ing at him mOmentlonger with some
thing like stupid wonder. her face
flushed and look Of awe came into II,
and she started on, and he heard her
say; "Lawk! lawki" and run against
the decreasing as she emerged fro1
the parlOr into the hall.
The young man brushed the dust |
from his clothes and sat down in the |
parlor and took up book. Presently |
ihe fal ladY cnme nnllinn I'm with fnM-